


It Started Out With a Kiss

by ashestoroses018



Category: B.A.P., Best Absolute Perfect, bap, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: 13 boys with 15 scenes each, F/M, I'm Going to Hell, Otome - Freeform, PICK YOUR POISON, also probably Voltage references because I'm seriously trash, and Cheritz references, each character is gonna have like 15 total scenes, how to tag, please don't be disappointed in me, possible smut later idk yet, sort of like a real person otome, stop me now, this is NOT a cyoa, what am i even doing with my life, who tf do i think i am, why am I doing this to myself, why do I do this to myself?, y'all there'll be Mystic Messenger references because i'm trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8770339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashestoroses018/pseuds/ashestoroses018
Summary: How did it end up like this? It was only a kiss (it was only a kiss).otome-style reader x choice of BAP or BTSi'm sorry





	1. Comin' Out of my Cage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. This is unbeta'd, all written in the last hour or so today, in the early hours of 6 December, 2016. 
> 
> let me know if there are any tense changes -- seriously, I caught myself doing it a few times. I think I fixed all errors as I was writing, but it's possible I didn't catch them all. 
> 
> I'm Ash Ketchum. I *gotta* catch 'em all.

There’s a knock on the door leading to your practice room. Or, well, a thunderous pounding, more like. At least the other instructors understand that just because they can’t hear the music blaring in the room doesn’t mean it’s not loud in here.

You press pause on the remote. “Take ten, everyone!” Grabbing your bottle of water, you open the door.

“What is it, Marie?”

The African-American girl speaks with a slight Cameroonian accent as she responds. “Did you agree to let a group of 14 young men come to our studio to watch and record some classes?”

It takes a few minutes to register what she asked, so you stand there for a moment with your mouth opening and closing in a funny imitation of a goldfish.

After a moment, it hits you – oh yeah! You’d gotten an email several months ago from a director, whom you’d choreographed for a few times, about an opportunity with some up-and-coming celebrities. You had asked the director to have their people call you…Wow, was it really already June 2017? Where the hell had the time gone?

“Yeah, yeah, I did, Marie. They have a camera crew? If so, I gotta kick out my students for the day…Probably refund them for the day, too,” you say the last part in a whisper to yourself, slightly annoyed at your forgetfulness. It was your own fault that you are in this situation, though.

“I think so. I came straight here. Billie is talking to them right now.”

“Oh God, not Billie. She’s incapable of keeping things under wraps,” she says.

“Why would she need to keep things quiet, boss?”

You shake your head at the receptionist. “Private.”

She sighs. “Why don’t you ever tell me anything?”

“Oh hush,” you say, smiling. “Let’s go up there.  You got a towel for me?”

Marie nods, handing you a hand towel with which to wipe your sweat.

“Ahhh, you’re so great to me! Always so prepared!”

The taller girl smiles at you as you both walk to the front area.  You quickly mop up the worst of it and double-check your ponytail. God, you hope you’re at least moderately presentable and not too horribly stinky.

Fourteen men glance up as the two of you enter the front room of your studio. The two eldest men in the room are middle aged and come over to you quickly, their hands out to shake.

You hand the towel and your now empty water bottle over to your receptionist. She gets the picture and hustles off to man the desk.  
Shaking first one hand, then the next, you introduce yourself, then gesture the rather large group of people to your office.

As you’re walking down the corridor, a thought strikes you. Turning around briefly, you call back to Marie.

“Marie! Dismiss my class and put a note on the door. Comp everyone who had a class with me today a month of lessons, okay?”

“You got it, boss!”

Everything taken care of, you turn back around, meeting one of the boys’ eyes and smiling. He doesn’t return the gesture, and you’re slightly taken aback. Obviously, he’s just impolite or something. Who doesn’t smile when making eye contact? Honestly.

It’s only when you get to your office that you realize that there’s no way fourteen additional people will fit. You smack yourself on the forehead, slightly annoyed with yourself, and lead the large group of men to one of the empty practice rooms.

Flipping on the lights, you gesture for the group of men to spread out and put down their bags.

“Alright! Sorry about all that,” you say, an easy grin rising to your face. “As you probably know, this is one of the larger dance studios in the city. We have ten practice rooms in all, as well as fifteen total instructors. I’m the owner.” It takes you only a moment to give them your name. Despite the fact that most of the younger men in the room had had a confused, if slightly interested expression up to this point, most of them seemed to get excited when they heard your name. Perhaps they don’t speak English?

One of the younger men steps forward. He is quite tall, towering over your own five feet three inches by at least six or seven inches. “These guys don’t speak very good English. We all love your, uhh…choreography, though. My name’s Rap Monster.”

You cock your brow, struggling in vain to avoid laughing. Your lips twitch, and, unbidden, you begin to laugh. “W-what kind of name is Rap Monster? Oh, my god! I’m so sorry; just give me a minute!”

You walk to the opposite end of the room and face the corner for a moment, your shoulders shaking with the immense amount of effort you’re putting into controlling your giggles.

After a moment or twelve, you’ve contained your laughter to only a large grin and turn back around. Taking a few deep breaths, you do your best to maintain your composure.

You walk back over to the taller gentleman and give him your best apologetic look. “I’m seriously so sorry. That was incredibly unprofessional and rude.”

He just grins back. “It’s nothing. I get that reaction a lot. You can call me Namjoon, if you prefer.”

You nod. “Thanks, Namjoon. Uh…where’d the older gentlemen go?”

“They left when you started laughing. They have other places to be. We’re supposed to spend the day getting to know you, and they don’t really speak much better English than the rest of the guys here.”

“Ah, okay. Do you mind introducing me to everyone, Namjoon?”

“Not a problem.” He smiles again. “We’re not all one group, by the way. We’re just promoting together for an upcoming world tour, so our managers came up with the idea of us doing a TV show together here in the United States.”

You nod, understanding. “I’m part of a group of seven, and the other group here is normally a group of six. Their leader – the speaker of the group, I guess, like me – had a doctor’s appointment. You’ll meet him tomorrow.”

“Okay, but what are your names and stuff? If I’m gonna be teaching you, or whatever it is I’m expected to do, I need to know how to address you.”

Namjoon nods before speaking again. “I’m the leader of a group called Bulletproof Boyscouts, or BTS. The other group is Best Absolute Perfect, or B.A.P.”

“You guys really like acronyms, eh?” You snicker quietly.

The taller boy ignores you, gesturing to the boys around him and speaking rapidly in another language – Japanese, maybe?

Suddenly, six of the young men stand in a line in front of you, and you’re struck by how tall and handsome they all are. Holy hell, you’re in for trouble, aren’t you?

“Hello, I am the oldest brother of BTS, Ki—I mean Seokjin Kim. You can call me Jin!” the young man next to Namjoon bows quickly. “I am twenty-si…er, twenty-four years old.” He smiles widely at you, and you swear your heart stops for a moment.

The one next to him is a tad shorter than he is and seems to be perpetually annoyed. Was he the one you made eye-contact with earlier? You’re honestly not sure. They’re all so handsome, and, though you don’t want to sound racist, they all kind of look alike to you right now. You can only really tell them apart by their height and hair color right now. You’re going to hell for thinking that, aren’t you?

The shorter male clears his throat quietly, before speaking up in a slightly raspy, deep, yet also somehow calming voice. “I’m Yoongi Min. Call me Suga. Twenty-four years old.”

Your eyes are nearly burned out of their sockets when you see the million-watt smile of the young man standing next to ‘Suga’. “I am your hope~. J-Hope. Jung Hoseok.” His first name is Jung? Odd. Suga suddenly nudges him in the side. “Ah, sorry, sorry. I am Hoseok! Twenty-four years old!” Once again, he is elbowed in his stomach. “Ow, _hyung_! I am twenty-four in Korea, sorry.  Twenty-three years old!”

You interject suddenly. “I thought you were Japanese! Usually when international people come to my studio, they’re Japanese or Taiwanese. This is the first time we’ve hosted Koreans!” A grin finds its way to your face. You always have loved learning about foreign cultures, after all.

The man next to Hoseok has a deep voice. “Taehyung Kim! Twenty-three years old!”

The shorter boy, who had a baby face, who is standing next to Taehyung turns to him, speaking rapid Korean.

“Ah, sorry, _Noona_. I’m actually twenty-one here in America!”

“How does that work? I thought Korea only added one extra year?” you ask, suddenly confused.

Namjoon speaks up. “At the beginning of the year, we all age one year in Korea, even if our birthday hasn’t passed yet. Jin _hyung_ and Taehyungie have December birthdays, so they haven’t had their birthdays yet, so their Korean age is two years older than their physical age. Korean age is a year plus your age after your birthday passes.”

You nod, not completely understanding, but willing to just let the discussion continue.

“I am Jimin Park,” the baby-faced young man says in a sweet voice. “I’m a little bit older than Taehyung.” You can’t help but feel your heart speed up when he gives you an eye smile. These boys are going to be dangerous for your heart, oh goodness.

The next one to speak is quiet and almost seems to be brooding. “I am Jungkook Jeon. Nineteen years old. Nice to meet you, _Noona_.” The smile that comes to his face makes your heart skip a beat. Okay, seriously, you are starting to be really concerned for your health.

“What does _Noona_ mean?” you ask suddenly.

Namjoon smiles at you, his dimples immediately on full display. “It means older sister. How old are you, Boss?”

“I’m only twenty-two!” You pout. Do you really look that old?

“So, you’re a 95-liner?”

“What does that even mean?”

“You were born in 1995?”

You nod. “In May. Taurus.”

“So, you are Jiminie, Taehyungie, and Jungkook-ah’s _Noona._ ”

You flush slightly. _Older sister_ , huh? Well, that’s one way to get past awkward attractions to large groups of young men!

“So, who is everyone else?”

The members of BTS take this as their cue to walk away, aside from Namjoon, your self-appointed interpreter.

“Himchan Kim, age twenty-seven is the tall one over there. Next is Daehyun Jung, age twenty-three—his birthday is in two weeks, by the way.” Namjoon is pointing to each one in turn. They’re all spread around the room, talking to each other or on their phones. “Over there is Youngjae Yoo, also twenty-three. That’s Jongup Moon – he’s your age. And finally, there’s Zelo, or Junhong Choi. He’s twenty. He’ll be twenty-one later this year.”

You’re silent as you try to memorize names and faces—and, apparently, ages, since that seems to be an important aspect of Korean culture. After a moment, you turn to Namjoon, who is looking at you expectantly.

“So when do I start choreographing for you? Do you have a song or songs in mind? Who’s the producer of the music I’m choreographing to? I need to get to know them well to understand the intent of the melody. Who’s the lyricist? I also need to know the intent of the song. And, if possible, do any of them fluently speak English?” The words all leave your mouth in a rush, so it sounds more like a giant German superword than a paragraph.

The taller male just blinks. “Could you repeat that? You should be a rapper!” He chuckles at your expense.

Taking a deep breath, you repeat yourself, more slowly this time.

Namjoon sighs deeply, calling over Suga, Hoseok, and Zelo. “We’re missing Yongguk, but the five of us are the main producers of the songs.”

You blink. “Wait, seriously? That’s unheard of! Can I see the lyrics or hear the melody?”

“Ah, one or the other, for now. We’ve got two songs. One is being produced by Suga, with lyrics by Hoseok and Suga. The other is being produced by Yongguk, with lyrics by Yongguk, Zelo, and myself.”

**So, who will you work with?**

[Suga](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8770339/chapters/20124235)

[Hoseok](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8770339/chapters/20209267)

[Yongguk](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8770339/chapters/24633726)

Zelo

Namjoon

_(coming soon: you decide to leave the weaving for later and just practice choreography with …_

Jin

Himchan

Daehyun

Youngjae

Jongup

Jimin

Taehyung

Jungkook)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the names will by hyper-linked as they become available. Each chapter will have a few places where you can choose an A, B, and/or sometimes C answer. It'll be sorta like those old WWYFF on Quizilla, but it's more of an otome. You choose your guy here, in the prologue. The answers will push you either towards a "lovely" end or a "romantic" end. Neither is bad, and sometimes your answer doesn't push it either direction. You'll calculate your points at the end of each chapter. 
> 
> So while there are gonna be 15 scenes for each boy, there's also going to be two different endings for each boy, for a total of 17 scenes each. 17 chapters for 13 different boys.
> 
> the fuck have I gotten myself into? 
> 
> Each scene should be at least 1500 words long. This isn't a drabble series :) 
> 
> And yes, the two endings idea is blatantly ripped off of Voltage's recent releases. sorry, not sorry lmao


	2. "And I've Been Doing Just Fine"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suga's first episode.

With a name like ‘Suga’ he can’t be that bad, can he? With that thought in mind, you turn to Namjoon.

“I guess it’ll be fine if I work with Suga, right? How good is his English?”

Namjoon winces slightly. “He’s…gotten better, but he’s honestly not very good. He sounds like what happens when you rely on google translate too much.”

The mental image that comes to your mind from that makes you giggle, which you hide behind your hand. Namjoon smiles as well, his dimples becoming all the more prominent.

“But will we be able to communicate?”

“Well enough. Since you’re going to be focusing on the other song, I won’t be around as much to help you translate, since we have to get both songs finished on time.”

“Right, right.”

“That being said, I can help you learn some simple things in Korean to help, if you want!’

Your eyes widen, a bright smile forming on your face. You’ve always loved learning bits and pieces of other languages. It makes you feel smart. “I’d really like that, Namjoon!”

“Okay, well, you know how Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook, and Junhong would call you _Noona_?”

“Mhm?”

“You would call the rest of us _Oppa_.”

“Oh-puh?”

“No, no, oh-bbah.”

You test the word out on your tongue a few times. “So, I shouldn’t call you Namjoon? Instead I should call you _Oppa_?”

For some reason, Namjoon flushes slightly. “Ei-either one is fine, really. When there are a lot of older guys in the room, like right now, you’d say something like _Namjoon-oppa_ or _Himchan-oppa_.”

“So if there were a lot of older girls –“

Namjoon cuts you off with a simple ‘yes’. “Song is _norae_ , dance is _choom_ , and music is _eumag_. Can you say those?”

You try each one out a few times, knowing your pronunciation must be atrocious. Namjoon grins as he says, “Good enough! Finally, good is _choah_ , and bad is _nappa_.”

It’s obvious that he’s teaching you words that you might need to use, and yet you still find yourself overwhelmed at the influx of information.

Suga, who’d been listening to the entire exchange silently finally speaks up, an annoyed tone to his voice. He speaks Korean quite rapidly, and you find yourself feeling blatantly insulted. For some reason, you know he’s talking about you.

“Yo, Suga, do you speak _any_ English?” From the corner of your eyes, you see Namjoon’s eyes widen in surprise – probably at the tone of voice you used.

“A little. Why you choose me?”

“You’re the one working on the melody of the song, right? That’s important. The arrangement decides a lot about the choreo. Er, the _choom_.”

The taller male snickers at your botched pronunciation of the Korean word. “They working on a song, too. Why me? Why not Hobi?”

“Who’s Hobi?”

Namjoon interjects quickly. “That’s one of Hoseok’s nicknames.”

“Ah.”

Suga looks at you expectantly, an eyebrow raised on his ~~perfect~~ face. “Does it matter? I’m not changing my mind, now. I have to work with everyone at some point. Why not just get the unpleasantness over with now?”

Namjoon translated what you said, since Suga seemed slightly confused at bits. He shrugged.

“Whatever. Just don’t get depressed when I won’t help you.”

The silver-haired boy walks away, shrugging, only to go sit in a corner and – did he just go to _sleep_? What the fuck?

You whirl on Namjoon. “Is he seriously asleep?”

He laughs. “Yeah, probably!”

For some reason, you feel yourself glaring over in the corner at the sleeping male. Perhaps it’s because of him being rude to you.  
  
If you’re being honest, though, it’s probably because he’s allowed to sleep right now, and you’re not. At this point, you’re left alone.

  1. _Go hang out with Namjoon._
  2. _Go bother Suga_



**Go hang out with Namjoon:**

You sigh. There’s no way you can go bother Suga right now, since he’s asleep, and you’re pretty sure nobody else speaks English well enough to make speaking to them worth it.

“So Namjoon, who’s the Yongguk person you mentioned before?” you ask, sidling up to the green-haired boy.

“Oh, right! He’s a rapper from B.A.P., and their leader – I didn’t tell you this before? Anyway, he’s twenty-seven, so he’d be your _Oppa_ , too.”

“Are you sure it’s not weird that I’d call you guys something like that? I’m pretty obviously a foreigner to you guys.”

Namjoon shrugs. “Some of the guys might think it’s weird, but for the most part, we always think it’s pretty cool when someone who doesn’t speak Korean tries to.”

“So, what’s the theme of the songs, anyway?”

The boy’s eyes brighten, suddenly twinkling in excitement. “Well I only really know the general theme we’re supposed to go for, right now. See, the thing is, we’re doing this as a TV show thing. It’s sort of a contest between our two teams. I think you’re going to be our only choreographer, though.”

Your brow furrows. “A TV show?”

“Yeah. This kind of thing is very popular back in Korea.”

All you do is nod, your mind whirling at the fact that this isn’t just a normal choreography gig. Your choreography isn’t just going to be featured in hit music videos. “Am I going to be on the show?”

“Um…yes? Didn’t you read your contract…?”

The look in your eyes tells the boy everything you need to know. “Too late, now!”

You pout. “Anyway, what are the themes of the songs?”

“Ah, that! Well B.A.P. tends to be known for darker, serious music, and BTS, my group, used to be known for that kind of music. Recently we’ve been doing a lot of love songs. So we have to come up with some sort of hybrid between the two genres.”

“So…You need Evanescence. Or the Killers.”

“What?”

You start singing, purposely off-key. “ _It started out with a kiss~ how did it end up like this~ it was only a kiss~ it was only a kiss~”_

A shoe is suddenly thrown at your head. “You can’t sing!”

You recognize the voice as Suga’s and flip him the bird.

_(one point for “Lovely” ending!)_

**Go bother Suga** :

You grumble to yourself and go to wake up the sleeping jerk. He needs to actually _talk to you_ about your task. Just because he doesn’t want to work with you right now doesn’t change anything. You were right when you said that you have to work with all five of them at some point.

“For fuck’s ever-fucking sake. Suga! Wake up!” You poke him in the side with your foot.

“Fuck off.”

“Nah. Get the fuck up. We need to talk about work.”

“Sleeping.”

“No. We’re working. Get up, for Christ’s sake.”

The silver-haired male just flips you the bird and pulls his hoodie down over his eyes. Then he turns away from you, smudging one of your mirrors in the process.

This son of a bitch just smudged your $500 fucking mirror. “You fucking douche,” you whisper under your breath, the rage within your body nearly palpable.

“Asshole, get the fuck up. You just dirtied my mirror. You’re cleaning it.”

“…”

“Oh, fuck you.” You throw your hands in the air, annoyed beyond belief.

This son of a bitch is officially on your shit list, and you’re already regretting choosing him as your first work partner.  On top of it, you still have little to no idea of what’s going on.

You go and sit on the wall at the opposite side of the room, stewing in your anger, for the next fifteen minutes or so. If there weren’t thirteen complete strangers in your practice room right now, you would be dancing off all the rage within your body. Instead, you’re just listening to loud, angry music.

Lost in your thoughts, you nearly jump out of your skin when someone taps your shoulder. You take one of your earbuds out before turning to look at your intruder.

“If we are working together, you need to know what we working on.” It takes everything in your being not to deck this guy in the face. Judging by the look on his face, he feels much the same.

“Fine.”

“I producing melody for song about dark love.”

You furrow your brow. “You mean like a fucking Evanescence song?”

“Who?”

You clear your throat, before doing your best Amy Lee impersonation. “ _Hooooooow can you seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee into my eyes~ like open doooooooooooo-_ “ before you can finish the note, there is a hand clamped over your mouth.

“Please. No.”

You pout angrily, before licking the palm of his hand. All he does is cock an eyebrow. “No doing that, please.”

Crossing your arms, you just continue to pout. This was a seriously bad fucking idea, wasn’t it?

_(one point for “Romantic” ending!)_

 

_**Episode Two** _

_(_ coming soon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> which was your preferred choice scene? Lovely or Romantic? 
> 
> I wonder which terrible, cheesy, wonderful otome trope I chose for Suga. (muahahaaha)


	3. "Gotta, Gotta be Down"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first interaction with Hoseok is sweet at best and unabashedly flirtatious at worst.

You find your mind wandering to the tall male with the smile of bottled sunshine. “I think I’ll work with Hoseok,” you say, grinning slightly.

“Oh, good choice! Hobi is the best dancer in BTS, by far. I think you guys can come up with some great choreography together.”

Glancing at the lilac-haired male, who’s across the room, gently popping to some unheard melody, you find yourself seeing hints of what ‘Rap Monster’ is talking about. Honestly, you’re already really looking forward to working with him.

“Yah! Hobi – ,” Namjoon starts shouting something that sounds like pure gibberish to you, but probably means ‘come here,’ because in a flash, Hoseok is standing in front of you.

“H-hey,” you say, finding yourself stuttering for some ungodly reason.

The tall male smiles brightly at you. “Hello! What can I do for you~?”

You swear to fucking God your heart stops. “U-um—“

Namjoon, seeming to sense your sudden discomfort, smirks and jumps in for you, speaking rapidly in Korean, then translating himself for you. “Our wonderful choreographer, here, decided she wants to work with you, Hobi. Lucky you, huh?”

Hoseok’s eyes widen, as if shocked that _he_ would be the one picked, and for some reason, your heart feels a little sad that he would be so surprised about any attention he receives. He’s at least as attractive and talented as anyone else, to have made it this far (or so you assume. If you’re being honest, you’re not really into the k-pop scene, so you have no idea if these guys are famous or not).

“Okay! I would love to work with you! We will make the best dance ever!”

Hoseok’s excitement is contagious, and you find yourself grinning like an idiot. Namjoon wanders off, when he sees you and Hoseok smiling stupidly at each other, a knowing look on his face.

  1. _Ask Hoseok what it's like to be a Korean popstar.  
_
  2. _Ask Hoseok about the theme of the lyrics._
  3. _Ask Hoseok to show you some of his moves!_



 

**Ask Hoseok what it’s like to be a Korean popstar.**

“So, Hoseok, you’re a Korean singer, right?”

“Ah…actually, I am rapper.” Your eyes widen. In your experience, rappers tend to be harsh and often scary.

You don’t want to insult him, but for some reason, you find yourself unable to avoid asking, “Really? You don’t look like a rapper, like, at all!”

Apparently, you spoke a little loudly, because the previous, quiet but all-pervading din of noise becomes complete, radio silence as everyone turns to stare at you and the taller boy.

The Korean’s eyes are wide, his mouth slightly ajar, as if he’s not completely certain how to respond, and you realize immediately that you have made a grave mistake.

Quickly, you flail your arms in front of your face, panicked. “I-I mean…you’re just so nice! And happy! And cute! And sweet! All the rappers I’ve met before have been so rude, except in order to ‘fuck bitches left and right’ so their ‘dick is ambidextrous’, or some shit like that. And you’re just, like, the opposite of that! It’s a good thing, I swear!”

Everyone just continues to stare at you in silence for a moment, as you feel your cheeks burn more and more intensely every second.

Namjoon comes up to you suddenly, a shit-eating grin on his face. “So, uh, you really want Hoseok’s D, huh?”

If looks could kill, you wouldn’t be the only person in this room dying ~~of embarrassment~~ , right now.

_(no points earned!)_

**Ask Hoseok about the theme of the lyrics:**

“So Hoseok, you’re writing the lyrics, right?”

“Ah, sort of. I’m writing them with Suga- _Hyung_.”

You cock your head to the side. “What does _Hyoong_ mean?”

“It’s _Hyung_ ,” he says, his ever-present grin widening slightly at your mispronunciation. “It means ‘older brother’.”

“So, like _Oppa_?”

“Oh, you know _Oppa_?” Hoseok smiles even wider at you, which you hadn’t thought was possible, before. “Yes. But _Oppa_ is what girls call older brothers, and _Hyung_ is what boys call older brothers.”

“Namjoon said I should call you _Oppa_ …”

Hoseok’s smile turns slight more bashful. “You can, if you want.”

You’re still not a hundred percent sure why Namjoon and Hoseok got shy about you calling them _Oppa_ when they both said that it was an okay nickname. For now, you just continue calling Hoseok by his first name. The look of dejection you see painted on his face is probably just your imagination, anyway.

“So, Hoseok, what do you think the lyrics are going to be about?”

“I think we are doing a bright and energetic theme. A lot of songs are so…so very dark and sad. Right now is summer, so we are making summer song!”

A giddy feeling bursts through your chest when you see how completely enthusiastic the man in front of you is.

“Do you guys have any lyrics written yet? Or the melody done?”

“Ah, no. We are doing a TV show for Korea, so we were not allowed to working on any of it, yet. We had to wait for filming to start. Suga- _Hyung_ has lots of ideas, though.”

You furrow your brow. “But what about you? Do you have any ideas?”

Hoseok seems to conveniently ignore your question as he guides you over to here Suga is napping on the other side of the room. You find yourself wondering why that is…

_(one point for “Lovely” ending!)_

**Ask Hoseok to show you some of his moves:**

“I saw you dancing before, Hoseok. Could you show me some of those awesome moves?”

Hoseok flushes slightly, realizing that you saw him dancing to imaginary music before. “Are you sure? That was very not cool.” His accent seems to be stronger right now – perhaps he is embarrassed? But who would be embarrassed to show off such pure talent? Preposterous!

You smile gently at him. “I didn’t think it was uncool at all. In fact, you looked more talented than a lot of my employees here – but _please_ don’t tell them I said that.” You add the last bit at the end seemingly-jokingly, but the fact of the matter is that if they actually heard you talking about them like that, they’d get really upset.

The lilac-haired boy shows you another million-watt smile. “Ah, that is very nice of you to say. So…why did you pick me to work with?”

Why _had_ you asked Namjoon if you could work with this man? You spend a few seconds thinking, your finger absent-mindedly tapping your chin, before you wink at him, conspiratorially. “You are my hope, right? I need a lot of hope if I’m going to choreograph two dances from scratch!”

His eyes widen in surprise for a second at your slight pun, before he guffaws in an almost-obnoxious manner that has you grinning from ear to ear. So he likes puns, huh? Your type of guy.

Er, wait, no. Be professional. You can’t go banging your employers. No matter how cute their smile is or how nicely the color of their hair complements their skin. Or how they seem to light up the room with how joyous and perpetually happy they are…

Fuck.

Trying to divert yourself from the sudden heart palpitations you seem to be having, you focus on the subject of the choreography again. “So, if you don’t want to show me your epic moves, why don’t you at least tell me what kind of song I’m going to be choreographing to.”

Hoseok turns serious for a moment. “We are two songs making. Both with happy, summer theme. Very energetic. Lots of fun.”

Nodding, you being to think about how you can possibly come up with a unique dance for a summer song. Sometimes, it feels like all of the dances have been done before. Maybe you could come up with a dance that people dance along to, like that one song from five years ago,…what was it? Gang-num Style or something? Oh hey, wasn’t that k-pop, too?

You shake yourself out of your reverie, only to see Hoseok looking at you as if waiting for a response. “Ah, sorry, what was that, Hoseok?”

“I just asked if you like the idea for songs.”

You nod. “Energetic music is my favorite kind. It makes everybody happy, and I love to see people being happy.”

Hoseok smiles. “Me too!”

 _Fuck._ You are in way too deep already, and you’ve only known this guy for twenty minutes.

_(one point for “Romantic” ending!)_

  _ **Episode Two  
**_ ****(link coming soon)


	4. "Because I Want It All"

“I guess I could work with Yongguk?”

Namjoon grins. “So none of us here are good enough for you?”

Your eyes widen. “That’s not what I meant at all—“

“But?”

You pout.  “I figured that if I haven’t had the chance to meet him yet, like I have with everyone else, maybe working with him first would be the best bet.”

“Ah, yeah, you won’t get to meet him until next week, probably,” Namjoon says, sounding slightly anxious.

“Well, why don’t you tell me about this Yongguk guy, huh?”

“Yeah, okay. Um…he’s about this tall,” grunts Namjoon, as he raises his hand to roughly his height. “He has a really rough voice, so a lot of people think he’s going to be mean. Yongguk- _Hyung_ kind of looks like, um, a gangster, I guess you could say. Women sometimes get scared of him. Lots of tattoos and such.”

“But he’s not a gangster, is he?”

Namjoon actually laughs at this. “Of course not! He’s probably the nicest person I’ve ever met. Yongguk- _Hyung_ goes out of his way to make sure everyone around him is as comfortable and happy as possible.”

“Oh, okay!” Suddenly, you feel like you made a great decision. “Maybe I should formally meet the rest of the members of his band, since he’s not here.”

Namjoon grins, before leading you to where the five other members of BAP are sitting together. He speaks rapidly in Korean for a few moments before turning to you and translating what he said.

“This is our choreographer. She already met BTS, but she asked to meet all of you, because she’s going to work with Yongguk- _Hyung_ first.”

A very, _very_ tall boy stands up first. “Hello, I am Junhong, or Zelo. I speak English best out of us.”

“Nice to meet you, then, Junhong.” You smile.

“I, uh, actually prefer Zelo. Only my _umma_ calls me Junhong.”

“ _Umma_ means mom,” Namjoon whispers, helpfully.

“This is Jongup. He’s a really good dancer. You guys should get to know each other,” Zelo says, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hello,” Jongup says, his accent a little bit stronger than Zelo’s.

“Next is Youngjae. He’s a…um,” Zelo pauses for a second, asking Namjoon a question in rapid Korean.

“He’s a player,” the older male supplies for you.

You nod, a look of understanding on your face.  “So I shouldn’t fall for any nice things he says?”

“Definitely not.” Zelo confirms. “Next is Daehyun. He’s a funny person, but really bad at English.”

Both Daehyun and Youngjae wave at you, not unkindly; they just look lost. Obviously, the language barrier is going to be difficult. You idly wonder if you’ll be able to write off a translator for taxes. Probably.

“And I am Himchan,” the impossibly handsome man, standing behind Daehyun, says suddenly.

“It’s nice to meet you all!” you say, before introducing yourself again.

Before anyone has the chance to say anything else, there is a large crash in the practice room – it seems your _really expensive_ floor-length mirror has been completely shattered.

  1. _Run over to try to help whoever is hurt._
  2. _Call in your employees for help._



 

**Run over to try to help whoever is hurt.**

“Is everyone okay?” you ask in a near-shout.

Namjoon repeats the question in Korean – you notice that he only uses one word, which sounds like wayne-chun-uh, so you file it away for future reference.

One young man looks extremely guilty – Taehyoon, you think his name was. The shorter, baby-faced one is holding his arm carefully. His white shirt is quickly turning red.

Fuck. You gesture for him to hold his arm out; luckily he understands your nonverbal communication. Gently, you move his sleeve, hissing as you see how deep the cut is.

“Zelo,” you call. “Go to the front desk. Under it, there should be a first aid kit. Namjoon, call 911. I think he needs to go to the hospital. This might need stitches.”

Namjoon quickly translates what you said for everyone else, then pulls out a cellphone. Hopefully it has US, service, you think offhandedly, as you try to apply pressure to Jimin’s wound. After a moment, you notice the blood is starting to slow.

“Cancel that, Namjoon. You haven’t called them yet, have you?”

“No, I was about to ask you for your phone.”

You chuckle softly. “Go find Zelo. I need antiseptic and cleaning cloths, and bandages. Make it quick, please.”

The redhaired one, who’d guiltily looked like he’d caused the breaking of your expensive mirror, said something quickly.

Namjoon translates. “Taehyung says he has a cut as well, but that it’s not as bad as Jimin’s.”

“I’ll take care of him after Jimin, then.”

Namjoon nods, before going to help Zelo.

“I’m sorry, _Noona_.” Taehyung speaks up – you’d need to remember his name better, for sure.

“I’m just glad neither of you is hurt worse.”

He nods, though it doesn’t look like he fully understands what you said.

You attempt to make conversation for the next few minutes, but nobody is really good enough at English, plus you’re very concerned about poor Jimin’s arm. You know that, in this business, image is important. You really hope this won’t scar. Frankly, he’s probably more concerned about this than you are.

“We’re back!” Namjoon’s voice rings out suddenly, breaking the awkward silence that has settled over the last five minutes.

“And we brought a friend!” Zelo says, excitedly. “Yongguk- _hyung_ is here! He wasn’t supposed to be finished yet, but he was excited to meet you!”

You look up, despite your hair falling in your face, and smile. “Great, can you _please_ bring me the first aid kit, Zelo?”

“ _Hyung_ has it!”

You try not to roll your eyes at his puppy-dog attitude surrounding his band brother. However, when his friend walks through the door, bearing your first aid kit, you are shocked.

The man is tall, with curly falling into his eyes, a shy smile on his face, the edges of a tattoo peeking out of the top of his tank top. There are likely more, hidden by his varsity jacket. You’ve never been a huge fan of a ton of ink on a guy, but wow. Something about this guy is just…yes.

“Here,” he says, handing it to you, and his deep voice nearly sweeps you off your feet.

You smile at him, saying a quiet thanks, before masterfully taking care of Jimin’s injury. There’s the strangest sensation on the back of your neck, like you’re being watched carefully, but you ignore it.

When you’re done, Namjoon walks up to you, dragging Yongguk with him. He quickly says something in Korean, before translating it.

“So it looks like the two of you should get to know each other. You’re going to be working _closely_ together for a while, after all.”

(one point for “ _Romantic”_ ending!)

 

**Call in your employees for help.**

As Namjoon and the others run towards the crash, you run towards the door. “Marie, Billie! I need your help, immediately!”

The two women are the only two of your employees in the building, right now, and, luckily they come running.

“Billie, start sweeping up the mess, so nobody gets hurt. Marie, make sure nobody is standing near the glass, then help me make sure nobody is hurt.”

With the practiced ease of women used to assisting you in emergencies, they jump to action.

When you realize that the shortish member of…BAS, was it? No, BTS…well, when you realize that he’s got a nasty-looking gash on his arm, you have Marie hold it closed, despite the fact that it’ll probably ruin his white shirt, which looks like it costs more than your monthly rent.

As you go rummage in the front desk for your first aid kit, you hear the front door’s bell jingle. “Sorry, we’re closed,” you say, not peeking over the desk.

“Ah, am here for, uh, meeting,” a deep voice stutters.

Just judging by his ~~incredibly sexy~~ accented voice, he’s with the kpop guys. Bumping your head in your rush to stand up and greet the man, you mutter a curse.

When you stand up, with your hand to the quickly-forming bump on your head, you are shocked at how gorgeous this man is. Now you _really_ wish you’d had the chance to put in effort before all these people showed up. He’s dressed simply, in dark jeans, a white wifebeater, and a multi-colored varsity jacket, his curly, black hair falling into his eyes.

There’s a dimple at the corner of his mouth, when he smiles, and you actually want to jump his bones. The bashful look on his face as he begins to speak. “I am Yongguk?”

You introduce yourself quickly, before remembering that there’s a young man practically bleeding out in your practice room, however the first aid kit is heavier than you remembered.

“Can you carry this?” you ask, as you attempt to lift it.

You’re not certain he understands you, but he shrugs and takes it from under the desk, so you lead the way. When you get to the practice room, the boys in the room start shouting excitedly, probably at the arrival of Yongguk. He just ignores them, saying something to Zelo rapidly.

“He wants to know where to put this.”

You just gesture next to Jimin, before brushing your hair out of your face. As a gesture of thanks, you smile brightly at Yongguk, before setting to work fixing Jimin up.

After you’ve tightened the gauze bandage on Jimin’s arm, Namjoon walks over and puts a hand on your shoulder. When you look up, you see Yongguk is with him.

“I think it’s time for the two of you to get to know each other,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

(one point for “ _Lovely”_ ending!)

  _ **Episode Two  
**_

(coming soon)


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